One Hundred
by Synchrony
Summary: Zexion. Demyx. One hundred scenarios, one hundred stories. Zemyx. Current prompts: Middles "He never spares a thought for how it might end."; Star "I kinda wish I'd never found out, y'know?"
1. Broken

So...perhaps a little stupidly, I've decided to take on the challenge of writing one hundred stories for the Zexion/Demyx pairing. Wish me luck! Things have been so hectic lately that I haven't uploaded anything in months, but the holidays have given me a bit more time to write, so hopefully I should have a few more fics to upload soon.

Each chapter of this will (probably) be a one shot, and the title and ratings will probably change, just so you're pre-warned. It might seem like the rating is too high for this particular one shot, but I figured better that than having to change it too frequently. Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to Kingdom Hearts, and this is just for entertainment (unfortunately for my bank account).

**Summary: **They try to find a comfort in each other that can't be found elsewhere.

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**Prompt 71- Broken.**

**Shards.**

They cling together where they stand; one hunched dark mass in the middle of the white, white room, a stark interruption in all that emptiness. Arms are wrapped too tightly, hands gripping waists, sides, shoulders, hair, anything to pull them closer. Ribs ache; lungs are crushed and breathing is shallow as they hold fast and faster still, as if they're trying to merge with one another. Blonde hair will melt into slate; grey eyes will dissolve into green; and they'll bleed into each other and become one, something more, something _better_ than the shells they are now and the people they once were.

It's impossible, of course. Sooner or later they'll let go and go their separate ways, only to come back together again later and hold each other as they do now. They'll sit or stand or lie, maybe here, maybe elsewhere, entwined as they are now, trying to piece together something that can't be and that never really was to begin with: two shards of glass, all jagged, ill-fitting edges, searching for a whole that might never come and trying to find comfort in each other in the meantime.

And yet, somehow, it'll all seem worth it, if only for a little while, if only for the sensation of another heart next to them beating without feeling, yet aching to do so all the same.

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Feedback is always very much appreciated- I'd really like to know what you liked, didn't like, what you think could be improved. Thanks!


	2. Christmas

Wow. Thanks to those of you who added this to your faves and alerts, and special thanks to agent-to-the-rescue for being my first reviewer! A slightly early Christmas present for everyone- unsuprisingly, this is what I produced when I decided to tackle to "Christmas" prompt. Feedback is always welcome, so I'd love to know what you think.

I'm not sure how well the second person present works with this, but it seemed to fit at the time. Hopefully it reads OK. ^-^ Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

**Summary:** After liking Demyx for so long, it all amounts to this one moment at a Christmas party. Zexion isn't all that pleased.

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**Prompt 92- Christmas.**

**Cliché.**

It's strange. You spend days watching him. You spend weeks learning all you can about him in that secretive way of yours, asking subtle questions and lurking in the background, memorising every fact to slot into place with the others later. You spend months realising that you love him more deeply and desperately than anyone else in existence. You spend years agonising over what to do, coming to terms with the fact he's barely aware you exist, let alone that you feel so much for him.

And then all of a sudden here you are, eyes wide as you try to shrug the heavy hand off of your shoulder and above all _remember to breathe_ as you stand face to face with _him_-

- and all you can think is _how cliché_.

You know that maybe you should be reassured by the fact that he easily looks as stunned as you do, reflected as you are in those blue-green eyes that you've spent _so_ long wishing would take you in. He stands before you as awkward as ever, all hunched shoulders and too long arms, as though he'd grown taller than expected and never quite learnt what to do with the excess. A small smile tugs at his lips as he reaches one hand up to scrub at the back of his neck.

He's nervous.

You can feel the heat spreading over the bridge of your nose but force yourself to keep the same calm expression of disinterest that you've perfected over the years.

You're nervous.

"Uhh...Zexion, right?" he asks, laughing a little because this whole thing is so obviously more than awkward. You nod, amazed he remembers from your few brief introductions but you keep it from your voice.

"Yes. Demyx." You mean for it to sound like a question but it comes out more like a statement, so used as you are to his being the centre of your universe. Luckily he doesn't seem to notice and just nods too- perhaps he's too distracted by the catcalls and laughter of the watching crowd circling you.

"Man...this is awkward, huh?" he says, trying to break the ice maybe, sensing that you're not amused by all this but without seeming to grasp _why_. He gestures up- you glance up above you and narrow your eyes at the mistletoe hanging there, wishing it would spontaneously combust or something. "Guess I'd better get Axel back for this later, right?"

"Yes...I suppose I also have someone to..._thank_." you reply, shooting a poisonous look sideways at Lexaeus- the traitor- who now stands back, hands raised in a gesture of innocence. You'll get your revenge on him. His days are numbered and he knows it.

"Well...guess we'd better...y'know..." Demyx is continuing as you look back at him, "I mean...there's no getting out of it really..."

"It's no big deal." you cut him off, unable to listen to him wrap himself up in tangents that amount to you both having not intended to end up here together now.

He looks up suddenly from where he's been tracing patterns in the carpet with his gaze, surprise evident on his face. "It's not?"

"No." you answer with a shrug, forcing your heart into a corner so you won't get caught on the shards as it fractures and falls apart. "It's not."

And it's really not. What are small kisses under the mistletoe at a Christmas party except tradition? What will this be to Demyx in years to come except something to laugh about with his friends when they go for a drink? And what does it matter that this might be all you ever have?

"O-OK." He shifts from foot to foot, not quite meeting your eye, then adds in a mumbled "sorry" before darting forward. You go numb as you see him loom closer, arms hanging heavy and loose at your sides as a hand closes over your shoulder and you barely have time to shut your eyes before his lips meet yours.

It barely lasts three seconds. One moment his lips are light and dry against yours; one moment his nose is bumping yours; one moment you feel as though he's leaning almost too much on you, almost enough to overbalance you both-

- and then the next, it's gone.

It's gone. He's drawing back; he's letting go. There's a sharp wolf whistle from behind Demyx- you guess it must have come from Axel- and he's turning towards it, back into the real world, away from the kiss, away from _you_-

You have a split second to decide. And in that split second you realise that you aren't happy. You haven't been happy in so long, living in a permanent state of limbo, and you can't stand it any longer. You can't bear the idea that the one time you might be close to Demyx has just been and gone with barely any chance to register it before it was over. It doesn't seem fair that he can just turn back to real life and no doubt carry on just as before, whereas you'll spend sleepless nights replaying the event over and over in your mind, scrutinising each and every last detail.

So in that split second, you decide that you aren't happy to leave things as they are: hurried, half-hearted, barely there at all.

You decide to _act_.

As he turns, your hand shoots out and closes tightly around his wrist. The effect is immediate- his head jerks around and he stares at you over his shoulder with wide, confused eyes, looking for all the world like a deer in the headlights. You don't give him a chance to think though, knowing that if you do you might fail before you even get to try, and instead you tug on his wrist hard to pull him closer. It's surprisingly easy. He stumbles towards you, body turning to face you and ending up mere inches from your own. From there, it's as simple as winding one arm around his waist to close the gap, reaching the other hand up to the back of his head to pull him down, swallowing the last of your nerves and kissing him.

He's warm- so warm. That's the first thing you notice, vague in some distant corner of your mind. His lips are soft and hesitant against yours, so you press closer, coaxing his mouth open with your own.

And then suddenly he's holding you as well, fingers of one hand digging into your spine whilst the rest brush your hair back from your face and cradle your head. It's him who brushes your tongue with his, tasting faintly of the beer you saw him drinking earlier before you were both forced here by respective so-called friends. You've heard of people trying to pour all of their being into a kiss but you'd always dismissed it as yet another cliché, something pretty for romantic stories but ultimately useless or impossible in real life. Still, after the mistletoe, what's one more cliché? You push your doubt and your cynicism to one side and just give in, kissing him with all the pent-up emotions built up through years of hopeless longing, determined to enjoy it as much as possible if this is all you've got to last you a lifetime.

Of course, clichés like this don't take simple things like a need for oxygen into account, and so eventually you have to part. You're both flushed and breathless as you untangle yourselves from each other and the noise from those watching seems strangely distant. All you can see, smell, _sense_ is him. He's not moving away again and you can't understand why. In fact, you're downright stunned when he jerks his head towards the door, a questioning expression on his face, and maybe even more so when you find yourself nodding in response. His fingers seem to be laced through yours because now he's leading you by the hand through the dispersing, chattering crowds towards the back door. You focus on the back of his blonde head, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. You're still so surprised by the whole thing that you barely even register Lexaeus talking with a lanky red head, let alone think to throw them a sarcastic line as they smirk at you.

A wave of cold air hits you as you step out after him into the garden. It's so dark out here that it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom and notice his oddly serious expression. He takes a deep breath; you raise an eyebrow.

"Zexion," he says, rushing his words, "When you said it was nothing-"

"And it's not, really." you interrupt, knowing he must be suspicious and wondering whether you can pass the whole thing off as taking up the silent dare the situation had posed. "We never have to-"

"What if I said I don't want it to be nothing?"

And somehow, despite years of practiced and perfected stoicism, that one sentences catches you out so much that not only does your jaw drop open but that you also stutter your ever so eloquent reply.

"I-I...you...w-what?"

"Look, I know you must be thinking 'what the hell? I barely know the guy!' right now, but Zexion..." He shakes his head, hands spread helplessly. "Oh man, Zexion, I _really_ like you!"

You're not dreaming- you feel far too cold for that, which can only mean that this is really happening. This, the unexpected declaration of love from the other party, just like in the stories. So you respond in the only logical way there is.

"They put you up to this, didn't they?"

"I- what?" He seems genuinely confused, maybe because you've figured it out so quickly. You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose and explain.

"Lexaeus. Maybe your friend Axel, maybe others, I don't know. Lexaeus probably organised this though- after all, he's the one who knows how I feel. He probably thought it'd make my Christmas, getting to kiss you and hearing you like me too." You laugh a little hollowly. "He'd be right too, except for it being false."

"False? But I'm not-" Demyx protests, then pauses. "Wait...you like me?"

"Of course." you say, eyes narrowing a little in suspicion. "That's why we're here, ri-"

You're cut off by his mouth on yours. If possible, this kiss is twice as passionate as the last, and when you break apart to gasp for air, Demyx is already talking hurriedly.

"Axel pushed me forward under the mistletoe. Is Lexaeus the really tall guy, built like a bear?" You nod, unable to speak. He's holding you too tightly against him for you to be able to wriggle free with ease. "I thought so. I saw him talking to Axel earlier on and they kept looking at me, it was kinda creepy." He laughs somewhat nervously. "Anyway, Axel knows I like you, he always tells me I never shut up about you and sometimes he even threatens to set my hair on fire if I don't stop talking about you." Another laugh. He seems to realise he's rambling, shakes himself and continues, "Well anyway...I think he set me up. And I think Lexaeus set you up too. If you really do like me, that is."

And in the end, all the days, weeks, months and years of agony amount to this: three sentences uttered quickly in a garden in the freezing cold night as he holds you close. All the doubt, all the grief and all the desperation ended with a few simple words. He's shaking, but you're not sure whether it's from cold or nerves. Your heart is pounding so hard that you're wonder if it might burst out of your chest. You look up at him and find his face again wearing that grave expression that doesn't suit him at all.

"And you...really mean all this?" you ask, voice low. He nods eagerly.

"Of course! Look, let me take you out sometime, maybe before New Year's Eve if you're free. I'll do anything to prove it to you."

"You...you don't have to prove it." Despite the cold, you can feel the heat spreading across your nose again and wish you weren't so pale and prone to blushing. "I believe you. I just...it's a shock, that's all. I never thought..."

He laughs, mouth widening into the grin you've seen so many times before. "Me either! I never thought...well, if you believe me, then that's great, but...I'd still like to take you out sometime."

You smile back at him, finding his smile too contagious to resist. "I'd like that too."

This time, neither you nor he initiates the kiss- instead you both lean in and meet in the middle. It's sweet and brief, and when you pull away you realise he's shivering still.

"Let's head in, yeah? It's freezing out here." You nod in agreement, letting him take your hand and guide you back towards the door. "So...do we thank Axel and Lexaeus, or do we get revenge?"

You laugh at that as you step into the kitchen again, head still reeling from all that has happened. Mistletoe and confessions in the garden have somehow led to you holding hands with the very person you'd thought of as unattainable for so long and smiling as he turns to kiss you again. It's like something out of a storybook, but as he wraps his arms around you, you give in and suppose in the back of your mind that some things are cliché for a reason.


	3. Lunch

I've been really busy with uni and stuff, but the other day something happened that inspired me to write this. It all got done in one sitting, which is a bit unusual for me, but always welcome when it does happen! I wanted to have a go at writing an everyday conversation and I think it came out OK (or so I hope, at least, heheh).

Thanks for the feedback so far! Concrit is very much appreciated. Please do click the button at the bottom, because it's always good to hear what people like or dislike! I also have a writing journal now, and though it's very much just starting out, you can find the link in my profile if you fancy checking it out.

All that said, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Really not mine.

**Summary:** AU. Demyx comes to keep Zexion company.

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**Prompt 57- Lunch.**

**Break.**

"You're early." Zexion remarked without looking up from his book. "I wasn't expecting to see you until the next lecture."

Opposite him, Demyx shrugged, smiling slightly as he dumped his bag on the floor beside him and started to take off his jacket. "Well, I remembered you saying you had a couple of hours off between classes on a Monday and that you usually sat in here rather than head all the way back to your flat. Figured I'd come keep you company."

"You didn't have to." Zexion said, turning a page almost absently. "I've been here an hour already, and I don't mind."

"I wanted to. And, uhh...sorry. About the delay. I couldn't get here any earlier."

"Meaning you just woke up, right?" Zexion looked up then, smirking as Demyx's breathlessness and flushed cheeks confirmed his theory before the somewhat sheepish grin could find its way to his lips.

"Well, yeah, OK, you got me there. But you weren't expecting me to show up. And I _did_ run all the way. Points for trying, right?"

"I suppose so." Zexion looked back down at his page and started off again from the sentence his finger was hovering on. "It's a nice surprise."

"I'd hope so. Otherwise we'd have to have some big serious talk about why it was a bad surprise and why you wouldn't want to see me, and it's way too early for that."

"It's one in the afternoon."

"Yeah, but still feels like eight in the morning to me. Speaking of-" Out of the corner of his eye, Zexion could see him fishing through his pockets before producing his wallet with a triumphant flourish. "Time for breakfast!"

"I think you mean 'lunch'."

"Either way, food is good." Demyx was searching through his wallet now but nodded towards the book. "That the text for this week?"

"For next week, actually."

"Show off. You know the rest of us will have only read the first page of _this_ week's text and looked up a summary of the rest on Wikipedia, let alone started to think about _next_ week." There was a slight groan. Zexion glanced up to see Demyx shoving his wallet back into his pocket with a disappointed expression. He raised an eyebrow, prompting his friend to explain, "No money. I seem to vaguely remember paying for a taxi back after the club on Friday, so I'm guessing I should be tracking down the others to pay me back."

The fact that it was more a question than a statement wasn't lost on Zexion, who couldn't help the way his lips twitched in amusement despite his friend being so suddenly disheartened. Instead of making an observation about how Demyx's Friday nights nearly always ended up as a blur that were only gradually revealed through a series of flashbacks and increasingly incriminating photos being posted online, he pushed the open packet in front of him towards the other, earning a confused look.

"There's still one sandwich left if you want it."

"But-"

"I'm not hungry. You might as well have it."

Demyx grinned suddenly. "Well, you've interrupted my attempt to do the whole polite refusal thing, so I won't do it again." He grabbed the sandwich and took a bite, looking far happier as he chewed it than Zexion thought he should. "Thanks, Zex. This is why I keep you around, you see."

Zexion snorted. "What, that and the fact I actually do the reading for class and can give you the answers come essay deadline day?"

"Something like that, though maybe more the bit where you feed me." Demyx laughed. "Just like you keep me around for my great company and hilarious antics, right?"

They smiled at each other across the table.

"Yes." Zexion said, turning back to his book. "Something like that."


	4. Winter

I'm amazed at how many hits and alerts this is getting! Thanks to everyone who's contributed to that so far, and please, review and let me know what you liked/didn't like. I'm interested to know what you think.

I'm not sure how in character Zexion is here. Maybe not so much- but perhaps I can blame that on him spending a lifetime with Demyx? _

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine.

**Summary:** AU. It didn't matter how many years came and went: winter had always been different somehow.

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**Prompt 61- Winter.**

**Winter Wonderland.**

Zexion wiped the windowpane with his hand again to clear the fog of his breath and peered out once more into the garden. The snow had come down thick and fast last night and people had woken up that morning to a world blanketed in soft white. He could barely make out where the path ended and the lawn began, marvelling at the way the weak sunlight made the icicles sparkle where they hung from the bare branches of the tree opposite the window.

He sometimes felt like that, at least in recent years: fragile, able to break at the slightest disruption. He'd told Demyx this once, years ago, but the sitarist had just laughed, taken his hand and, swinging it back and forth as they walked, told him he was only old if he _believed_ he was. But that was just like Demyx- as the world had turned cycle after cycle around him, he seemed to remain permanently in the spring of childhood, all endless energy and wide-eyed enthusiasm.

The house behind him seemed too quiet, and Zexion smiled to himself. If he couldn't hear Demyx stumbling around, bumping into things or talking too loudly to himself or playing that damn sitar of his as usual, it could only mean one thing- Demyx had already ventured out into the front garden to enjoy the snow there. It didn't surprise him in the slightest. After all, they'd met in the middle of a snow day back in their second year at university, as Zexion had trudged back home more than disgruntled at finding the campus library shut and suddenly got hit straight in the face with a snowball that Demyx had been aiming for one of his friends. Knocked off balance, Zexion had slipped over and the next thing he'd realised, he'd agreed that this strange, overwhelmingly apologetic boy could buy him a hot chocolate at the nearby campus café to make up for it. It wasn't ever a decision he'd regretted though. Even though they hadn't got together immediately, by the time winter had rolled around again they'd been strolling along the same path with arms wrapped around one another, and Demyx had been unsuspecting enough for Zexion to pull him close for a kiss...and promptly dump a handful of snow down his shirt in belated revenge.

Winter always had something special about it for them. Of course, the other seasons did too- the garden they'd worked so hard on together bursting into colourful life each spring; the beach trips and holidays in the summer, where Demyx spent most of his time splashing about in the sea and somehow luring a willing Zexion out there to join him, even though he always intended just to sit and watch and read; the walks they took together in autumn, sometimes huddled together under a single umbrella, kicking through the reds and gods of fallen leaves. No, winter was just _different_ somehow, with its cold crisp days and long dark nights, as much time as possible spent by each other's sides, and that hadn't changed as they'd got older- if anything it was quite the opposite. They'd moved here the winter after they were married, and their first daughter had arrived a few winters later, establishing them as even more of a family.

And as the years went by, winter became more and more eventful. Demyx had rejoiced in having found two people in their adoptive daughters as enthusiastic as him about the time of year, and Zexion had rejoiced in how happy _he_ was as they spent hour upon hour decorating the house for Christmas, making snowmen and practicing lines for end of term school plays. The girls had grown up and Zexion and Demyx had grown older, but Demyx had remained as cheerful as ever, not willing to let the odd stiff joint here or bit of short sightedness there ruin his fun. He'd always been the livelier of the two and even though they approached life with often conflicting points of view, Zexion had always admired that about him.

The sound of a key scraping in the lock of the front door caught his attention and he turned away from the window, shuffling towards the kitchen door to peer out into the hallway. His younger daughter was there, shutting the door behind her as she wiped her feet on the doormat. She glanced up and grinned at him.

"Hello, Dad!" she said, moving forward to hug him. He retuned the gesture as best he could whilst still clutching his walking stick. "It's nearly eleven- ready to go?"

"Yes, yes- could you pass my coat please? It's in the hallway." She nodded, retreating to get it. He moved back into the kitchen whilst she did so, leaning his stick against the table and smiling his thanks when she returned. He let her help him on with it and as he turned so she could help feed his second arm into a sleeve, he caught sight of the garden outside again and chuckled.

"I don't suppose you saw your father outside, did you? The way he is with snow, we'll _never_ get to your sister's on time-"

It was when he glanced round and saw the smile frozen on her lips that he realised she'd stopped dead. She tore her gaze away as his face creased in confusion, pulled the coat up properly into place and then came to stand in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, her face serious, her eyes locked with his.

"Dad, Papa is dead. He died five years ago. Remember?"

Zexion's eyes widened; he shook his head slightly, looking away. "N-no. No. Don't joke ab-"

"Dad, please!" She shook him ever so slightly, and he could hear a note of desperation in her voice despite his confusion. "Papa died five years ago. You know that. Right? You remember?"

He shook his head more, mouthing protests with no sound, but even as he did, there was something shifting in his mind, like snow shovelled aside and ice cracking to reveal the truth hidden beneath.

Demyx was dead. He remembered. It was five years ago. He remembered. It was five years since he'd last kissed him, since he'd last held him close, since they'd laughed together over simple things or told the other that they loved them. It was five long years since he'd last heard him stumbling around, bumping into things or talking too loudly to himself or playing that damn sitar of his. It was five long years of feeling like half of him had been torn away, of feeling emptier than he'd ever imagined possible. Demyx was dead. He remembered. He remembered, and _remembering_ it all was just like _losing_ him all over again, and it _hurt_.

He looked up into his daughter's face, the tears in her eyes matching his own. He remembered too that this wasn't the first time this had happened either. Demyx had been wrong- age had a funny way of existing despite what you might believe, and the cycle of seasons drew to a close for everyone in the end. All things withered and died eventually. Demyx. His mind. What did it even matter any more?

He knew she couldn't find the words to try to make it all better, no matter how hard she was searching, so instead she pulled him into a tight hug. He placed his arms around her too, mechanical, all too aware of the silence and the pain.

Over her shoulder, he could see the garden through the window again. It looked frozen, barren, lifeless. There was no wonder in the world any more.


	5. Heart

...and so, after a stupidly long unintentional hiatus, I'm back! I know. I'm sorry, but real life decided to tackle me when I least expected it. Anyways, now I'm back with a few updates in the pipeline. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Kingdom Hearts is, sadly, still not mine.

**Summary: **The solution's simple, but reality's cruel.

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**Prompt 47- Heart.**

**Reality Check.**

For what seems like the longest moment, Demyx just stares down at the creatures swarming below. Zexion watches his face. It's fascinating to see how convincingly his features contort in all those emotions he remembers from before and thinks he is experiencing now: shock, disbelief, horror, confusion, disgust.

"Our hearts...are in things like _that_?"

"Yes." he replies matter-of-factly, glancing down at the shadowy depths his new colleague is so fixated on. "Or, strictly speaking, that's what our hearts have become once the darkness overtook them and they were separated from our bodies."

From the corner of his eye, he glimpses Demyx raising a hand hurriedly to his chest as if to reassure himself that his heart was right where it had been before he'd awoken into this new life barely two weeks ago. He notices that it clenches into a despairing fist almost immediately when it's proved not to be the case at all. Silence stretches between them for a long moment before Demyx speaks again.

"So...if we find the right Heartless, we can get our hearts back no problem, right?"

Zexion glares at him sharply, causing him to step back suddenly, and sneers as he wonders whether Demyx realises just how long he's been a Nobody.

"And tell me, Number IX..." he asks, tone light and mocking as he gestures down at the sea of Heartless with a grand, sweeping movement of his hand, "Can _you_ detect which specific Heartless down there- if any in this world- is formed from _your_ heart?"

Demyx looks away to the creatures below. Silence stretches between them again. This time he does not reply.


	6. Dark

Thanks to those of you who reviewed, favourited and/or added the story to your updates list! Just a short drabble of an update today. Suggestions and concrit are always very much welcome- I'm glad people seem to be enjoying it so far, even if the amount of prompts I have left to complete tempts me to headdesk now and then. XD

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. I'd say "yay for non-profit", but I'm horribly poor. So yeah.

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**Prompt 74- Dark.**

**Futile.**

...and it didn't matter- none of it did. It didn't matter how long or how loud Demyx argued that there _must_ be something more, something they were overlooking maybe, some kind of magical get-out clause. It didn't matter that he went on and on about how because they were special, because they were _them_, that everything would turn out just fine in the end. It didn't matter how often he said "one day we'll go here and do this" or "one day that will happen", and it _certainly_ didn't matter how much he genuinely seemed to believe what he said- or how much Zexion would like to have shared in that belief.

And as his vision dims and as all he can feel is the hand gripping his neck as the molecules of his being start to loosen and dissipate, Zexion wonders if, deep down, Demyx knows that all that really awaits them is darkness and oblivion.


	7. Diamond

Finally, a piece that's a little over a couple of hundred words! A little. But still, that's a start, right? Thanks for the alerts, favourites and reviews- it's always good to know people are liking it so far.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Kingdom Hearts in any way, shape or form. But my bank account can't tell you how much it wishes I did.

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**Prompt 48- Diamond.**

**The Question.**

For what must have been the third time in ten minutes, Zexion drew the small velvet box from his pocket and stared at it as though it held the key to life, the universe and everything. Which was stupid, of course, but a pretty accurate description of how he was feeling right about now. He knew the ring was still inside, there was no way it couldn't be, it wasn't as if it would have just evaporated since he last checked, but still, he had to flip open the box again to reassure himself.

Sure enough, it was still there- still simple and silver, still set with the small subtle diamonds that gleamed now and then when they caught the light, Zexion snapped the box shut again, mouth dry and heart pounding heavily. The clock was ticking too loudly in the background. He focused on the coffee table in front of him. What if it wasn't enough? Demyx was already ten minutes late- nothing unusual there, but his mind was racing. The ring had seemed perfect at the time, but maybe he should have got something bigger, brighter, _better_? The box was awkward in his numb hand. Didn't Demyx deserve the best? What if he'd failed him? Would Demyx tell him, laugh at him maybe? Or- worse- would he just make a mental note of it and smile and say nothing?

To say that such trains of thought weren't Zexion's strong point would have been an understatement. He preferred logical things: order, systems, science, facts. He'd thought that people could, more or less, be compartmentalised in such a way as well; that if you knew enough basic facts about someone, you could work out their motives and guess their actions, like a predictable system half-way through it's cycle. Then along had come Demyx and blown that hypothesis not so much out of the water as entirely to smithereens, and then obliterated the remaining fragments for good measure. Demyx, with all his comings and goings as and when he pleased; Demyx with all his good-natured shrugs and "just because"s; Demyx, who- somehow, inexplicably- _loved him back_.

Still, some of his logical instinct remained. When he'd realised that he wanted- _needed_- to spend the rest of his life with Demyx, he had came to the conclusion that marriage was the way to go. Of course, about two minutes after that, he'd also come to the conclusion that he had absolutely no idea how to go about bringing up such an issue. And about two minutes after _that_, he'd come to the third conclusion of asking various friends and acquaintances for their advice.

Which had, of course, ended up being a complete disaster.

After a stunned silence of approximately thirty two seconds (Zexion? Asking for _help_?), Axel had been the first to speak up, proving once and for all that the smug look in his eyes and his wicked smirk could never mean anything good.

"Could always just propose in bed. He wouldn't be able to say no afterwards if he's anything like- ow!"

Roxas, Axel's "totally-just-in-it-for-the-sex" lover, had slapped the older man around the head, effectively cutting off any potential blackmail material and/or mental scarring of all present. The way he was blushing and hissing something to the red head that sounded suspiciously like a threat to _never_ try any such proposal on him had made Zexion wonder whether the blonde really was "totally-just-in-it-for-the-sex" after all.

Luckily Vexen had been there to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. Good old Vexen and his sensible ideas.

"As..._interesting_ as Axel's idea is," he had sneered, shooting a disdainful look at the other man, who was currently too absorbed in Roxas to even notice, let alone care, "might I suggest a more practical approach? Perhaps you could draw up a list of advantages and disadvantages of marriage- cost, companionship, time, you know the sort of thing- and sit down with him to discuss-"

"Boring!" Xigbar had shouted, punctuating his declaration of what everyone was thinking by slamming his nearly empty glass on the table. "Demyx'd fall asleep before Zex could get to the point! Nah, Zex, it's gotta be something snappy- you gotta surprise him-"

_Yes_, Zexion had thought, _yes, this could work. Demyx likes surprises-_

"- like by jumping out of a cupboard at him!"

Everyone had stopped dead and turned to stare at him- even Axel and Roxas detached themselves from one another for long enough to join in the confusion that Zexion summed up so eloquently.

"Wait- what? _What_?"

Xigbar, not seeming to notice that everyone was looking at him as though he was crazy, had grinned and continued, "Yeah, just jump out on him, ring box in hand- he totally won't expect it!"

"That's because your idea is- to coin a phrase- completely retarded." Luxord had interrupted, an eyebrow arched at the scarred man.

"Look, it doesn't have to be a cupboard, OK? I'm just suggesting it 'cause Zex could fit, I mean, look how short-"

"However," Luxord had cut in again, luckily just in time to stop Zexion adding to Xigbar's scar collection, "The element of surprise isn't a complete loss. If I were you, Zexion, I would propose a bet." Ignoring Roxas's muttered "That's your answer to everything", he had elaborated, "It needn't be complicated. Perhaps just flip a coin- heads he marries you, tails he doesn't. and just to ensure that Lady Luck is on your side-" He drew a gold coin from his pocket and held it out towards Zexion. "I'll let you borrow my double headed coin."

Zexion had looked from Luxord to the coin and back again before raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that technically be me _tricking_ him into marrying me?"

Looking slightly insulted, Luxord had tucked the coin back into his pocket. "some might argue that flowers and chocolates do the same job, but at least _my_ version is original."

Resisting the urge to heave a sigh, Zexion had looked around to Larxene, who had cackled nastily and said, "If you're expecting _me_ to tell you how to stop being useless about the whole thing just because I'm the only girl here, you're badly mistaken, Zexy."

"Larxene has a point." Lexaeus had commented from beside him. When Zexion had looked around with an expression of something like betrayal, the taller man had just shrugged and continued evenly, "Perhaps the best idea is to just follow what feels right for you. I mean, that's how you decided to propose in the first place, right?"

And so Zexion had ended up firmly back on square one. Damn them all. Especially Lexaeus. He'd long since come to the conclusion that all his other friends and acquaintances were quite possibly certifiably insane, but _Lexaeus_ was supposed to be a voice of reason! Which, if he considered it fully, he _had_ actually been in this situation- "be yourself" was the phrase movies and books propagated so often, right? So to suggest the most obvious course of action seemed to be the most logical answer to the situation, right? _Right_?

Of course, with those words having become a cliché long before he was even born, they offered him precisely no help at all.

Damn it, Lexaeus.

The sound of a key scraping in the lock startled him back to reality. He just about managed to shove the box back into his pocket and leap to his feet as Demyx entered, dripping wet.

"Hey, Zex." he offered cheerfully as he shut the door again and dropped his keys on the table. "You wouldn't believe the weather- this is just from walking from the car!" Shaking his head, he laughed and shed his coat, slinging it over the hook by the door. "Anyways, Xion missed her bus and the next wasn't for, like, an hour or something stupid, so I gave her a lift home." He wandered a few steps towards Zexion, scraping wet hair from his face, but then suddenly paused, frowning slightly. "You OK, Zex?"

With a jolt, Zexion realised that he'd been watching Demyx with an expression that he hoped was less guilty than he expected it was. His heart was hammering against his ribs. His mouth felt like a desert.

"I- yes, Demyx. E-everything's...fine."

Suddenly, Xigbar's idea about hiding in a cupboard didn't seem so ridiculous. In fact, it seemed like a very good plan. Provided he drop the part about ever leaving it.

He knew it wasn't really an option. Demyx's deepening confusion aside, he was taller than Xigbar gave him credit for.

"Are you sure? I mean, you look kinda..." Demyx considered it for a moment as he drew a bit closer, before shrugging. "I dunno."

It was then that Zexion realised he still had his hand in his pocket, gripping the ring box as tightly as he could. He looked at Demyx, really looked at him, and was already closing the gap between them before he'd really registered that it was now or never.

"Demyx." he said, causing the taller man to raise his eyebrows. He pulled his hand from his pocket as the other caught Demyx's, saying as he did so, "There's something I need to ask."

He dropped to one knee.


	8. Middles

I know. I haven't updated since forever. I tend to get distracted by all other kinds of shiny things and...yeah, then it's ages. But then all of a sudden there's more! So...umm, yay? : D

**Disclaimer: **Sadly still not mine.

**Summary:** Somewhere between beginning and end, Demyx reflects- but not for long.

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**Prompt 2- Middles.**

**Midpoint**

It occurs to Demyx every now and then that he's in the middle of something that he doesn't really remember beginning.

Sometimes when he sits beside Zexion in some far distant corner of the Castle, chatting away to him about this and that, he wonders, _when did I first do this? When was the first time he sat and listened? When did he stop telling me to shut up or go away?_

Sometimes when he pulls back from heated kisses and looks at the face in front of him through half closed eyes, he thinks, _when did we first do this? _How_ did this first happen? Who started it?_

And sometimes when they lie tangled together, slumped one on top of the other or collapsed side by side, and Demyx is caught up in the slightly numb haze of fading pleasure, he looks at Zexion's still flushed face and body and wonders, _who made the first move the first time? What triggered it exactly- was something said, did something happen? When did we decide to make it an ongoing thing?_

The details are mostly lost now, swallowed up by time passing and bigger events happening since. It doesn't really bother Demyx- he's never really been one to live in the past, not when there's so much demanding his attention in the present. So he shrugs to himself, puts the questions to one side and sets out again to enjoy this arrangement- he's not quite sure 'relationship' can be right, given the whole 'no hearts' thing, but whatever- for what it is.

He never spares a thought for how it might end.


	9. Star

**Disclaimer: **Kingdom Hearts isn't mine, but that's probably not too much of a shock.

**Summary:** Deep down, most people don't really want to know. Demyx surprises Zexion.

* * *

**Prompt 46- Star.**

**Beneath The Stars**

Back when he still had a heart and a homeworld, Demyx had always loved the stars. He tells Zexion this one night for no reason other than they happen to encounter each other on Naught's Skyway when he happens to be watching the skies. The speech he launches into is long, rambling and littered with clichés- in fact, there's barely a word in it that Zexion couldn't have predicted before it leaves Demyx's mouth.

He'd always thought they were beautiful. He'd always wondered what their secrets were, whether they really were as powerful and magical as legends claimed, whether they really did influence the people below gazing up at them. He'd always wondered if there were people up there, gazing at his own star and wondering the same things. He'd written songs about them, referenced them endlessly whilst talking about other things: friendship, love, fate...

And Zexion scoffs inside, because he's _Zexion_ and everything that entails: dismissive of yet more useless lines to spring from Nine's mouth but hiding it behind that cool, impassive mask because really, what's the point? Demyx seems blind to the fact that his imaginative ideas are anything but, and could've just as easily come from any other mouth. The fool is hardly worth his time.

And then, suddenly, voice lower, Demyx says, "I kinda wish I'd never found out, y'know?"

The way Zexion's head snaps round at that is sharper than he would've liked, but Demyx, lost in his own thoughts, misses his superior's momentary lapse in guard, or at least seems to, and carries on.

"I mean, I get that you're a scientist and all, so finding out stuff is probably kinda a big deal for you, but for most people, it's more like they like the _idea_ of finding out, y'know? I was like that too, even if I didn't know it then. Like, if someone said to me now, 'you can go back to when you had your heart and your world and stay that way but all your life you'd never find out any of the secrets of the stars', I'd say yes straight away." He pauses for a moment and then shrugs. "I dunno. It's gotta be better than looking up there and knowing your own world's not there any more, right?"

Zexion doesn't reply, which he knows wouldn't have surprised Demyx even if he was able to feel anything. Science is, after all, all he's ever known, and the very idea of sacrificing knowledge even to go back on the years he's spent without a heart is something his mind automatically balks at.

He'd never admit that perhaps Demyx has a point, even as he turns his face away to seek out the half-light of a broken Garden.


End file.
